A Red Suit

Eva’s Dress Shop appeared on West 57th Street about the same time I finished reading Maureen Daly’s “Seventeenth Summer.”

The book soon became a classic and held promises beyond imagination for when I, too, departed from the threshold of childhood and entered my seventeenth summer.

Although I walked east of the Henry Hudson Hotel daily always passing Eva’s small and elegant boutique, l seldom paid much attention to the window displays.

It was the summer I was 15 and naively believed I understood the experiences the young, but now famed, Ms Daly had beautifully described.

Although my sixteenth birthday was still months away, I innocently believed I had already shared some of the emotions described in the young author’s narrative.

Earlier in the late spring of that memorable year, a group my friend, Joan, and I belonged to had broken into couples.

Every Wednesday night we, despite our youth, walked through Central Park toward the impressive Great Lawn. It was where and when the famous “Big Bands” shared their memorable music under the stars. Also, it was where many young couples danced dreaming of romance and attempting to forget the brutal war that had now ended,

And, yes, both Joan and I held hands with two young men as we walked in the moonlight. My dreams began and I only visualized happy endings. Neither my friend nor I realized summer would soon disappear along with the music.

And of course, so it did. Once Labor Day and September arrived, the two young men flew away to hold another’s hand.

After the music ended and the Park grew dark, we were both left wondering what had happened to our summer romances.

Of course, there had been no real romance only the perception of a promise. Still the reality was difficult for two naive adolescents.

Life moved on, it was the end of our senior year. I had accelerated and uneasy about the prospect of leaving the security of a crowded classroom. College was not a financial option and entering the business world evoked both angst and anxiety.

I believe it was early October when Eva put the red suit in her window. On a cloudy afternoon walking past the shop, I noticed the brilliant scarlet jacket and matching pleated skirt dominating the glass pane.

The garments seemed to reflect hope that life could go on despite what I innocently viewed as a broken heart. I lingered outside not realizing how long I remained staring at the display.

Returning often in the days that followed, I always wondered who would buy the magical red garments that would be a shield against rejection.

I was totally unaware my stern and sensible Mother had become an acquaintance of Eva, the glamorous blonde owner of the boutique.

Until the Halloween morning I reluctantly crossed the barrier of youth shielding me from life and its problems and I turned 16.

It was that year when my unexpected birthday gift was a scarlet jacket and matching skirt, which erased forevermore all memories of the young man who once held my hand.

And gave me another reason almost a century later to remember an amazing Mother.